The Darkness
by LachieOfChorrol
Summary: When a cloud of Darkness appears over the Imperial City, Brellin Goldentounge sets out with two strangers to find the source of the magic. Reviews appreciated
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer! Bethesda owns all of the lore, characters, places, spells etc. I own none except for those I created myself.**_

**Chapter 1**

Brellin Goldentounge sat in Luther Broad's Boarding House, sipping at a tankard of ale. His brow was furrowed in concentration as he poured over a book titled _Schools of magic. _Despite only having several chapters, it was thick and dusty. _A sure sign of wisdom,_ thought Brellin sarcastically as he blew dust off of a yellowed page.

His ears were shorter than most Bosmers' yet they were as sharp as an Altmer's. These oddities were passed down from his parents – a Bosmer and an Alter respectively. He was clothed in a rich, blue robe yet under the robe he wore chain mail. His eyes were a green colour with blue flecks – mages always had flecks in their eyes. His hair was a mess of long, brown locks. A longsword was strapped to his waist as well as a bow and quiver of arrows. All were of Elven make.

Around him, people bustled through the tavern talking, laughing and otherwise enjoying themselves. Luther Broad's was experiencing a heavy workload and even Luther Broad himself was sweating. As was his habit, Brellin's ears perked up to listen to the talk. Most was of the upcoming Dragon's Festival; a day on which Martin Septim's sacrifice was honoured. When the Oblivion Gates had been forever closed for all of Tamriel.

Just as Brellin returned to his book, his sharp ears picked up something he did not expect; shouts of alarm from outside. _Probably some thief stealing from a noble,_ Brellin thought, pushing the matter to the corner of his mind. He managed to read a page or two before he noticed the shouts had not died down. _What in the planes of Oblivion is going on out there?_ He thought irritably. As if cued by his thought, the door flew open to admit an Imperial Guard.

"I think you're all going to want to see this," he growled in a low voice.

Everyone poured outside, including Brellin. They stood in confusion as to what all the shouting was about until one by one, they noticed people in the street looking up. A pitch black cloud was advancing on the Imperial City. It was no common rain cloud; it looked like smoke the colour of tar. It was moving fast, against the wind. Soon it would envelope the entire city.

That night, in Luther Broad's, everyone spoke in hushed whispers, unnerved by the black cloud that remained over the Imperial City. The top of the White-Gold tower had been hidden by its dark wisps. Many had left the city itself, all claiming the cloud boded ill. Brellin was finding it hard to argue with them. The cloud had blocked out all moonlight and starlight. The thieves guild was having a field day while the guards patrolled with torches, eyes straining to see the illusive thieves.

Brellin sat by himself, once again reading his book. Every now and again, when he thought no one was looking, he would cast a spell he had just read about. But he could only read so much of his book before it started to bore him. He stood, mumbled something to Luther about going for a walk, and stepped outside. It was pitch black. He couldn't see his hand in front of his face. Muttering profanities under his breath, Brellin cast a lighting spell that illuminated the ground around him in a two metre radius. He walked aimlessly, seeing no one except for far off guards. As his thoughts turned back to Luther Broad's, he spied a guard looking into the shadows, sword drawn and torch held low.

Suddenly, the torchlight was extinguished. Brellin heard the guard shriek and then silence. Grimly, Brellin extended the range of his spell until it lit the entire street. An inky cloud of darkness, much like the cloud above the city, swirled where the guard had just been. Brellin cast a spell of life detection yet no sign of life was coming from the cloud. He faintly heard a soft whooshing sound just before a missile of Black Cloud exploded onto the pavement only metres away. Brellin backed off just as more missiles hit the ground. He began sprinting off in the direction of Luther Broad's when a missile smashed through the glass of a nearby house. Screams came from inside, waking the entire street.

Soon everyone was running and screaming. Realising his light was somehow being targeted, Brellin ended the spell and slipped a ring on. Instantly, his view turned blue and he could see in the darkness. The street was total chaos. People ran screaming, crashing into one another. Brellin saw an Orc swinging his claymore wildly around him, decapitating innocent people. Realising the Orc had gone berserk, Brellin drew his sword and slipped up behind him. Without emotion, Brellin ran the Orc through and cast the body to the side. He regretted killing the Orc but he had saved many lives in doing so. When Orcs went berserk, you couldn't reason with them and most calming or sleeping spells were useless. The black missiles seemed like arms streaking down from the sky, leaving a trail of inky darkness behind them. They twisted and turned, specifically aiming for groups of people. _This is no random magic,_ thought Brellin.

Brellin slipped into an alleyway as a group of Imperial Battlemages ran past, slipping night-eye trinkets of their own. They would only add to the confusion and chaos of the streets. Glancing down the alley, he saw a group of three thieves. They seemed to be performing a fence.

Creeping closer, Brellin could make out the words, "… best thing that ever happened. Dunno what the whole worry's about."

_Clearly they haven't been in the street,_ thought Brellin.

"Surely that's worth at least 200 septims," one said sharply, "Do you know…"

Suddenly one of the missiles exploded in the middle of the three.

Cursing, Brellin ran back onto the street and to the gate the guards were just opening and slipped out of the city. The cloud stretched for quite a few leagues but in the distance, Brellin could see moonlight. A few yards away, the stables lay in darkness, horses abandoned in the terror though three were saddled. _The owners must've been planning to leave,_ said Brellin sighing when he saw the inky darkness coming from the house. Slipping through the gate, Brellin cast a calming spell on an alarmed horse and mounted it.

Just as he was about to ride off, he heard someone call out, "Wait friend!"

Turning around, Brellin saw two figures running towards him. One was a Dunmer, her long braided hair spilling out behind her. Her slim figure was armoured with leather and several daggers were strapped to her belt. The other was a tall, thick Nord in heavy, steel armour. His left arm was encumbered by a shield while the other brandished a sword. The sword's tip was coated in blood.

Still mounted, Brellin grabbed his bow and aimed a freshly nocked arrow at the duo.

"What do you want?" he called sharply. The Dunmer must have had a night-eye enchantment of her own for she stopped and grabbed the Nord's arm.

"We wish to leave with you," she called in a light, silvery voice, "It would be safer for us both."

"That depends on who you two are," called Brellin, drawing the arrow back further.

"We'll explain on the way," growled the Nord, shaking the Dunmer's hand off his arm. He strode forward and leapt over the gate, displaying astounding agility for a man clad in steel. Mounting quickly, he grabbed the reins of another and led it over to the Dunmer. When both were mounted they cantered over to Brellin.

"Shall we go?" asked the Dunmer, raising an eyebrow.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The sun's golden rays were just beginning to appear over the craggy Colovian Highlands when the trio exited the shadow of the cloud. Their clothes and saddlebags were damp with dew and the horses lathered with sweat. All three looked weary and they were forced to squint as the sun rose. Beads of blood appeared on their dry and cracked lips whenever they spoke or smiled. Talk had been sparse over the journey but Brellin was beginning to feel more at ease. He had found little about the two of them save their names; The Nord's was Saetring and the Dunmer's Nalmila. Now that they were closer, Brellin could study them in more detail. Nalmila was stunningly beautiful with deep, red eyes and perfect teeth. The leather armour fit her perfectly and Brellin could see numerous wicked looking weapons strapped all over her. Saetring was a typical Nord; blonde, burly and blue-eyed with large, muscled arms. His steel armour gleamed in the sun and his weapon's hilt was extravagantly encrusted with jewels.

"So, where to now?" Brellin asked as they reined in their mounts.

"Skyrim," Saetring said firmly, "We'd best get away from this horror and let the Synod and the Collage of Whispers deal with it."

"No," Nalmila disagreed, "We have warn the other cities and provinces and then assist in finding a way to stop it."

"Well perhaps the College of Winterhold will help you."

"Stop it, we're not going to Skyrim."

Brellin silently sat astride his horse, watching the sun make its path over the mountains. Though he agreed with Nalmila, he decided not to intervene; to wait till they reached a decision. The two continued arguing for at least five minutes before Brellin finally became fed up.

"Chorrol," he interjected, "I have a contact who could perhaps help us in stopping the Darkness."

Saetring scowled but gave his assent and they continued on their way.

They travelled throughout the day, stopping for short periods of time between long intervals of riding. The landscape gradually changed as the rolling valleys gave way to thick forestry. The tall trunks blotted out the sunlight, leaving the travellers in shadow. The air became chilly and they all began to search their packs for warmer clothing. Through gaps in the trees, Brellin could see the beginnings of the Colovian Highlands. _We're getting closer, _he thought. As seemed to be their travelling ritual, talk was sparse and usually on inconsequential subjects. Saetring rode in a gloomy silence, his thoughts no doubt on the dark Nordic ale and craggy, snow-covered peaks of his homeland. Through brief discussions, Brellin discovered that Nalmila was well trained in the use of illusion magic.

The attack came when they were half a league from Chorrol. Several bandits stepped out from behind a tree, bows clutched in the hands and arrows directed at the travellers. Glancing behind him, Brellin noticed that a smaller group was blocking their escape, armed with swords and axes. His hand tightened on his sword hilt and he began to gather his magic. The Argonian who appeared to be the leader spoke up in a harsh voice saying, "leave your horses and your money and be on your way."

Without a word, Nalmila drew a dagger and expertly threw it at the leader. The dagger tore open the Argonian's throat, spraying the ground with blood. The archers released their arrows but Brellin blocked them with an extending shield spell of his own creation as Saetring nudged his horse into a charge, lopping off two archers' heads as he passed. Nalmila twisted out of her saddle and sprinted at the men behind them with alarming speed. She flicked two daggers out of their sheaths and tore one of them up the middle. Spinning around, she slammed another dagger into a man's chest and left it protruding as she gored the other one through the eye. Brellin's bow dealt with another archer and Saetring slashed the final one from shoulder to hip.

The speed at which his companions had reacted astounded Brellin. They had moved almost in unison, and had obviously fought together previously. Blood was beginning to pool around the corpses as they remounted and continued on their way wordlessly.

The guards at Chorrol's gate ignored them as they passed – on foot- over the threshold into the city. The horses were stabled just outside the city in the North Country Stables. People of all races strolled the streets chatting, laughing and stepping in and out of shops and houses. The atmosphere was friendly and the ever present Colovian Highlands could be seen over the far walls. A market had been set up in around the Great Oak in the centre of the city. The bright and colourful stalls stood out against the yellow pavings and numerous children ran around them.

"Where's your contact?" Nalmila murmured to Brellin.

"He's Fighters Guild so we might as well head to the guildhall."

She nodded before saying, "Don't forget, we need to inform the countess."

The Fighters Guild guildhall was a large building adjoined to a tower by an isle way. The red banners of the guild snapped in the wind as they hung from either side of a row of windows. A sign hung just above the door; a shield with two swords with the words 'Fighters Guild' inscribed on it. The interior was plain with red carpeting and wooden walls. Several people sat around a table while scrapes and clangs told the companions that people were sparring out the back.

"There he is," Brellin said, striding towards an Imperial man. He had black, cropped hair and white skin. He was armoured in Orcish which spoke high skill and wealth. A Dwarven claymore leant on the table next to him.

"Brellin!" he shouted, jumping to his feet, "What are you doing in Chorrol?" They embraced each other in a rough bear hug.

"I bring bad tidings, Carius," said Brellin grimly, taking a seat, "Not two nights ago, an evil cloud of darkness appeared over the Imperial City. It attacked with missiles of the same substance; we're not sure how many survived if any."  
>Silence greeted his words and all four fighters' guild members stared openly at him in shock. Carius was the first to recover. "Then it is as we feared."<p>

"What do you mean?" Nalmila asked quickly, "You know this thing?"

Carius nodded replying, "The Arcane University sent a message to the Mages Guild next door about a new rise in the necromantic order; apparently a new leader has sprung up from Morrowind and brought with him a terrible power; the Power of Shadow. With it, he can summon such clouds as you saw and he can raise hundreds of undead with a single spell. I'm afraid we're in for a hell-of-a year."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Saetring let out an explosive breath and shouted, "You knew this thing was coming and you never let anyone know? Never took any precautions? You cowardly bastards!" He smashed his hand into the table as he uttered the final sentence.

The other three guild members leapt to their feet, weapons appearing in their hands. Saetring's unsheathed his sword in a rough motion and Nalmila produced several throwing knives from various parts on her person. Brellin and Carius both sat impassively, wordlessly speaking to each other with their eyes. They reached an unspoken agreement and Brellin suddenly stood, waves of magic billowing from him. The angered guild members and his two companions were thrown against the wooden walls, causing large cracks to appear in the beams. The noise outside ceased and a stampede of feet admitted twenty additional members of the guild. Saetring's eyes were popping out of his head as he realised the folly of angering the guild members.

"You might as well come in," Brellin called to them, "You all need to hear this."

They all filed in, a buzz of conversation running through their midst. Carius remained seated whilst Brellin kept the angered ones pinned against the wall.

"You wanted to know why we didn't warn anyone." Carius asked Saetring, "Two reasons; firstly, we didn't wish to cause a premature panic as we'd only heard a rumour. Secondly, we believed that the necromancer wouldn't make his move till three summers into the future."

"Three years is not enough time to prepare for a horror such as this," spat Nalmila, "We're completely unprepared to face this at the moment and it will take months to assemble the combined armies of the Imperial Legion and the Fighters and Mages guild."

"Not if they're already assembled."

Everyone stared at Carius in shock, including his guild mates. Obviously, none had heard of such an assembly.

"And when did you plan to tell us this?" rumbled a nearby Orc. Each of the guild members voiced their agreement.

"Actually, it's only the Imperial Legion and Mages guild who are mobilizing. As always, the Fighters Guild is ready to fight at any time."

* * *

><p>Antus the guard lounged against the battlements atop the wall of Chorrol. He was armoured in chain mail with a blue leather tunic pulled over the top. The tunic had Chorrol's coat of arms sewn onto it. A half helm sat atop his head, the heat stifling, causing rivulets of sweat to run down his neck. A bow was leaning against the battlement next to him and a quiver of arrows was slung over his back.<p>

He had been on duty since midday and he was already bored. _Nothing ever happens in Chorrol, _he thought gloomily as his bored eyes stared out across the expanse of forestry. Birds flittered from tree to tree, their chirping voices echoing off of the trees. _I wish I was a bird, _thought Antus glumly. Suddenly, a flock of them burst from the trees, crying out in shrill voices. Antus straightened and unconsciously reached for his bow. A chill ran down his spine as he watched the birds.

"Radik!" Antus called warningly to the guard outside the gate, "Get inside, quickly!"

Radik's answering call was questioning.

"I think there's something out there!" Antus said, drawing an arrow.

"I don't see anything! I think your eyes are failing you."

"Call it a precaution!"

Radik laughed uproariously. "A precaution? Against what may I as…" His voice trailed off as something caught his attention. Suddenly he shouted something at the guard next to him and they both scrambled inside.

"Close the gate!" Radik screamed as he passed. Four guards moved onto each gate and forced them shut with a loud boom.

"What did you see?" called Antus.

"What did I see?" Radik called, verging on hysteria, "I saw an army of god damn undead!"

* * *

><p>Brellin started as the door banged open. Two of the Chorrol militia strode over the threshold and into the building. Both were armoured in shining steel with helms tucked underneath their arms.<p>

"Sir," one said curtly, nodding to Carius, "We've been instructed to bring you to the castle."

Carius stood, casting them a curious look. "And what does her Grace wish of me?"

"Her and the leaders of the militia are gathered for a council of war," the other said formally.

"Against whom?" Brellin inquired.

"The army of undead at the gates."

Blank silence greeted his words. All of the guild members and Brellin's companions stared in shock at the duo of grim-faced militia. Then, the Orc who had spoken earlier suddenly roared, "To war!"

As one, they pushed the militia out of the doorway and rushed into the warm, evening air. Instantly, a missile of Darkness arced over the wall and exploded in the midst of the Fighter's Guild members. Two more soon followed, scattering them all. Using a powerful telekinesis spell, Brellin pulled his companions towards him. Together, they sprinted for the massing militia at the gate. To their right, a guard was fleeing down a ladder from atop the wall. Nalmila beckoned him over and asked him, "where are the missiles coming from?"

His eyes were wild as he replied, "Necromancers. There are groups of them firing at will into the city."

"And the undead?"

"Pounding on the gate; they're breaking through!" He fled back towards the castle. Before he covered twenty yards, he was hit by a missile. Swearing, Brellin turned about, preparing to face off with the necromancers and their magic. Another missile arced over. Brellin cast a mobile shield spell in the shape of a sphere at it. The shield simply rebounded and the missile made a quick turn, now coming for the three of them. Brellin cast an immovable, more powerful shield spell and the missile shattered against it. He gasped as he felt his energy drain from his body.

Suddenly, there was a scream from the gate and all three turned to see a militiaman being pulled through a small hole by a decaying hand. Patches of flesh still clung to the bone and its fingernails had mutated into claws. One of the man's comrades began hacking at the arm with his sword. His sword sheared through the bone but Brellin noticed a slight bend in the blade.

With a savage cry, Saetring swept his own massive sword from its sheath, shouldered his shield and went to assist the militiamen. More and more holes began appearing, dead arms knocking large, sharp pieces of wood from the holes. Their arms were sliced to ribbons on the shards but they paid no mind in their frenzied attempt to take the city.

* * *

><p>The non-military citizens of Chorrol fled to the castle while the militia and the guard held the enemy back. Nalmila, Brellin and Saetring all assisted in the defence yet the constant flow of undead could not be stemmed. Eventually, the gates were smashed in by a reanimated Orc and the horde poured into the city. The militia and remnants of the Guilds retreated into the streets and marketplaces, constantly fighting. In a show of unprecedented organization, the zombies broke into contingents and strategically took the city.<p>

"How are they so organized?" marvelled Brellin to Carius as the two stood, slashing down the undead surrounding them. Their group had been forced into the marketplace around the Great Oak and they were gradually being slain. The members of the Mages Guild had their hands full, striving to erect shield after shield to block the missiles of the necromancers.

"I think their masters must be controlling them from afar," frowned Carius in a small lull o

"That doesn't bode well," replied Brellin grimly. The undead then regrouped and renewed their assault.

"They all appear to be Dunmer," called Nalmila from the right.

"I'd say they picked most of this lot from Morrowind," answered Saetring as he cleaved the head of a zombie in two.

"That's a long journey to Chorrol," Carius disagreed, catching a swipe of the flat of his blade. He pushed the zombie back and swept its head from its shoulders.

"Perhaps that Darkness can do more than kill," mused Brellin softly as he wreathed an annoying zombie in flames. Behind them, a guard was violently pulled away from his comrades and torn apart, blood spraying everywhere. The stench of rotting flesh covered the city and many gagged as they spilled the zombies' old blood.

Suddenly, a huge, lumbering zombie came at Brellin, casting lesser zombies aside with its fists. Its face was a grotesque image of drool and fangs. Instead of claws, it had long, sharp talons.

"Is that... a _Troll Zombie?"_ asked Saetring in shock.

Brellin erected a shield in front of the zombie. It smashed into it yet the shield stood firm and the zombie was thrown to the ground.

"Now," Brellin snapped.

Nalmila sprinted up dodging poorly aimed swipes from zombies. A long, curved dagger appeared in her hand as she slashed at the Troll's soft neck. With an amazing show of speed, the latter swung its decaying arm, knocking Nalmila to the ground. Zombies crowded around her, drooling with hunger. Saetring broke ranks and ran for her, swinging his sword in huge sweeping strikes. The Troll struggled to its feet and came at him. Saetring's eyes were wild as he faced the massive foe. Nalmila killed two of the zombies surrounding her and cast an invisibility spell. She materialised behind Saetring, protecting his back.

The Troll swung at Saetring but he caught the blow on his shield, his sword striking inwards. The Troll moved slightly so the sword entered its side, doing nothing. It twisted, yanking Saetring's sword from his hand and raised its hand in order to strike.

Brellin's mind went up in flames. Duplicating the technique he used on the missile, he cast a mobile shield at the zombie. It smashed into his stomach sending it crashing through the ranks of zombies. Saetring watched crestfallen as his sword went with it before he followed Nalmila back to their group.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Saetring had a despairing look on his face as he stood inside the circle of survivors. He had been forced inside by Carius and Brellin after his sword had been flung away along with the reincarnated troll. Even as the Nord watched, Chorrol militia and guards were being pulled from their comrades and torn apart. The Fighters Guild was taking less casualties; their members trained extensively for combat against monsters. Saetring was useless without his sword. His shield lay on the ground beside him where he had dropped it. Its steel body gleamed in the sun. It was hopeless, Saetring decided. There was no end to the masses of undead that had assaulted one of Cyrodiil's major cities, their claws sharp and eyes filled with an unquenchable thirst for blood. The necromancers had summoned them using some kind of newly discovered power from the dark province of Morrowind.

_Nalmila._

The thought of the Dunmer land brought his attention to his old companion. She was currently engaged in a slashing match against an undead with unusually long claws, almost talons. Saetring cried out as he saw the zombie open a gash on her leg but she ripped it up the centre with her dagger. Saetring felt his berserker's rage come upon him once more. He stooped, picked up his shield and re-strapped it to his left arm.

* * *

><p>Brellin felt himself be violently thrown aside by a gauntleted hand. He spun around, sword whistling at neck height but stopped when he saw Saetring shoulder past a Fighters Guild swordsman. Though he had no sword, he crushed the undead in his path with his heavy shield and knocked them to the ground with his muscled arms. Brellin had seen enough of the Nordic people to know a berserk rage when he saw one. Saetring quickly smashed a path through the undead leaving a trail of twitching bodies in his wake. "Now!" shouted Brellin before the undead could fill in the gap, "Follow the shield-bearer!"<p>

Brellin sprang foward, swiping a head from the undead's shoulders. He was followed by the bulk of his forces, some remaining behind to cover their escape. Erecting an arcane shield in front of him, he bulled over the quicker of the undead as they attempted to close the gap behind Saetring. Saetring stayed well in front, hardly even slowing to smash in a head or crush an outstretched arm. His fury was undiminished by the carnage he created; it was only swelled by the foul stench the rotting bodies released.

_Whump!_

A missile impacted against Saetring, the cloud of Darkness exploding from it. Brellin nearly fell in shock. They had been so close to breaking through, to escape. All their hopes had rested on his berserk companion and now, they were shattered.

"Saetring!" Nalmila screamed.

Brellin didn't wish to watch as the Darkness cleared but his eyes were locked to it. Around him, the survivors fanned out, creating another ring of defence. The Darkness began to become transparent and behind it Brellin could see movement. _He can't be alive after that! _He thought numbly. But Saetring was. His whole body shimmered in the sunlight; an unknown magic coursing over his skin. Saetring drew himself up to full height and uttered four words. They were in a language unknown to Brellin and Saetring's voice turned so deep that he couldn't make the words out. As his voice thundered across the city, a large from began to materialize behind the ranks of undead. It began to acquire shape and mass. _No... it can't be... that's an impossibility._

But against all of his mental disbelief, Brellin's eyes could see a dragon crouched in the city of Chorrol. The dragon was protected along its back, limbs and tail but a thick layer of diamond-hard, brown scales. Its talons were half a metre long, curving downwards into a needle sharp point. It's eyes smouldered dangerously as it viewed Saetring. The latter shouted a command at its summoned beast in the language from before. Instantly, the dragon began to lay waste to the undead near it. It's talons sheared through their rotting flesh and bones, its fire incinerated them. The men and guildspeople of Chorrol watched in disbelief as this creature they thought a myth destroyed their enemies.

"Now!" Saetring thundered, "Go!"

As one, they broke their reverie and began to press for the castle. Any undead in their path was cut down or obliterated with magic. They spread out to fill the street as the majority of the undead were already destroyed by the dragon. The beast itself spread its wings and threw itself from the ground, spraying it with fire. The undead caught in the flames howled.

The survivors cleared their way to the castle gate, only to find them closed and being assaulted by an only slightly smaller group of undead than before.

"Stand back!" Saetring ordered. He then raised his face to the sky and shouted in the unknown language. The dragon answered with a roar as it sped towards them. They all sprinted away as the cries from the guards atop the parapets echoed against the stone. The dragon opened its maw and bright flame gushed forth. It engulfed the undead in seconds, leaving them to run around, aflame. The dragon swooped down and snatched one up into its jaw. After rising again it dropped to the road, slaying the zombies in a violent fury. Brellin and the other survivors watched with a sick fascination as their enemies were torn apart. When it had finished its blood bath the dragon eyed them, sniffed at Saetring and vanished. The gate creaked ponderously open and the survivors rushed inside.


End file.
